


Heart in Hand

by Ralkana



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Spoilers, Canon Disabled Character, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 04:16:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4989892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/pseuds/Ralkana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You gotta hand it to Phil, he really knows how to liven up a quiet evening at home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart in Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Phil's arc at the end of Season 2, and _very_ minor spoilers for season 3.
> 
> I am hopelessly stuck on the much larger fic I've been working on (I swear I haven't forgotten you, Raiining!), and I'm hoping that writing and posting this little one will help unstick me! I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> Edit: Ooooh, I forgot to thank Chaneen, who helped me refine this and gave me great suggestions until it gelled! Thank you so much, m'dear!

 

Clint glanced up when Phil walked out of the bedroom as soon as the Dog Cops theme started playing. He was dressed in an Army sweatshirt, SHIELD sweatpants, and fuzzy socks, and he looked so soft and sleepy that Clint immediately wanted to snuggle him. Not that he’d ever admit that. To anyone.

He got his wish anyway as Phil plopped down on the couch next to him, and Clint pulled him into the curve of his body. Phil went willingly, muttering a curse as his left sleeve slipped down. He shoved it back up toward the elbow, and Clint couldn’t help but glance down at where Phil’s forearm abruptly ended. He pressed a kiss to Phil's temple, thankful – as always – for Mack’s quick thinking.

Phil looked at him quizzically, and Clint shook his head and then gestured with his chin at the TV.

"You're gonna miss the best part."

"Wouldn't want that, I've only seen this one four times," Phil shot back with a roll of his eyes, but he dutifully settled his glasses more securely on his face and turned toward the screen.

The episode _was_ a rerun, but watching the show together was their ritual, whenever they could -- which wasn't very often. Phil couldn’t easily get away, and never had advance notice when he could. He just showed up at base sometimes, or Clint surprised him on the ‘carrier or at his base. They always made the most of the night or two they usually had together -- and both their teams had learned not to expect to see much of them whenever they managed to grab time together, unless the world was in danger of ending. Which had actually been the case a couple of times.

Clint picked through the bag of gummy bears on his lap as they watched, occasionally feeding Phil one of the green ones he liked, since the bag was awkwardly far from Phil’s right hand.

Their show ended, the jaunty end-titles music fading out only to be replaced by a blaring ad. Phil winced, and Clint reached for the remote and hit mute.

The TV went silent, and Phil sat up, pulling away from him and shifting to face him. There was a smirk playing at Phil’s lips, mischief sparkling in his eyes, and Clint sat up too, giving Phil his full attention.

“What?” he laughed after a moment, grinning involuntarily at Phil – his boyish excitement was contagious.

“I have something for you,” Phil said with great mystery, and Clint raised an eyebrow in question.

Phil’s right hand slipped into his pants pocket and emerged tightly clenched around something. He tucked both arms behind his back and wiggled his shoulders like he was shuffling something from hand to hand.

“Pick a hand, any hand,” he said with a grin.

“You’re not funny,” Clint said flatly, but his twitching lips gave him away. “That joke is not funny.”

Phil saw it, and grinned even wider. “It’s hilarious, and you know it.”

Clint rolled his eyes, but... it really kind of was, if only for the “oh shit now what?” reactions when Phil did it to people for the first time. His victims were always people he trusted, people he felt comfortable enough around to go prosthetic-less, and most people in their group of close friends and colleagues were used to gallows humor.

“Well?” Phil said impatiently, and Clint sighed, pretending to think about his guess.

“The right,” he said decisively after a moment.

Phil’s shoulders slumped in dejection.

“I always lose this game,” he said sadly, and Clint huffed a laugh, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“Come here, you ridiculous dork,” Clint said, tugging at the collar of Phil’s sweatshirt.

“Wait,” Phil said, resisting a little. “Don’t you want to see what you’ve won?”

“Show me.”

Phil brought both arms from behind his back, right fist still clenched tightly. Holding his arms before him, he rotated the left and paused, as though revealing an empty palm. Then, he rotated the right and opened his fist.

In the center of his hand sat a brushed silver ring, a thin band of onyx running through it. Clint’s breath caught, his amusement jolting into shock.

He stared at the ring, he had no idea for how long, the room silent except for the low hum of electronics.

Finally, millennia later, he dragged his gaze up to Phil’s face. The wide grin was gone, replaced by a small, uncertain smile.

“Marry me?”

Clint lost his breath all over again. Phil held still, both arms outstretched, ring gleaming dully in his right palm. His right arm and hand were beautiful – strong and muscled, dusted with freckles, his fingers long and graceful and perfect. What was left of his other arm glowed faintly in the room’s dim light, due to the electronics and bionics embedded in his forearm.

 _This is me,_ his pose said. _This what I’m offering. What you’ll get. Forever._

There wasn’t anything in the world Clint had ever wanted more.

He stared at Phil through blurry eyes.

“Yes.”

 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

They lay tangled in bed, sweaty and exhausted, both of them grinning and unable to stop. Clint lifted their intertwined hands to admire his ring, and Phil chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Do you want one?” Clint asked him. “An engagement ring? Holy crap, Phil. We’re engaged!”

Phil’s laugh was small, and a little wistful. “Yes, we are. And no, I don't... as it is, when we get married, I’ll have to wear my wedding ring on my right hand.”

"See, I think you expect me to be sad or upset or something that you have to wear your ring on your right hand, but I'm mostly still stuck on the 'when we get married' part," Clint said, dazed all over again by the thought.

"Me too, to be honest," Phil said with a stunned laugh.

"I can't believe you proposed by playing 'pick a hand,'" Clint said, shaking his head. Phil might have had a good reason for doing so, but still... pick a hand? Really?

He felt Phil's grin against his shoulder. "It'll be a good story to tell our honorary grandkids," Phil told him, and Clint blinked in surprise at the thought.

Yeah, kids of their own -- and damn, wasn't _that_ a thought! -- might be out of the picture, but Tony's or Thor's, or Sam's maybe. Daisy's, or Mack's...

Clint pictured Phil a couple of decades from now -- laugh lines and crow's feet deeper than ever, completely white baby fine hair in a wispy halo around his head -- surrounded by wide-eyed, adoring brats anxious to hear his next story, and he couldn't help but laugh.

"You're going to make them all play 'pick a hand', aren't you?" he asked, grin widening as Phil shook with laughter beside him.

"As often as I can," Phil said seriously, and they both dissolved into helpless snickers.

"Think you'll ever win?" Clint teased.

Phil rolled a little, pushing himself up to look at Clint. His eyes were bright and happy as he studied Clint's face.

"I think I just did," he murmured, and Clint rolled his eyes at the schmoop even as he leaned into Phil's kiss.

**END**

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by a) my favorite coworker, who lost his arm years ago and loves to play "pick a hand", and b) a conversation I had with coffeejunkii and chaneen on twitter where we decided Phil would do the same, and would happily make ALL the hand puns. Chaneen brought up the idea of the proposal, and I just had to write it!


End file.
